I Give It All
by NellietheMarvelous
Summary: Always tag. Their first night together, the wounds healing, walls crumbling and worlds colliding.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Is this even necessary at this point?  
**

**A/N: Another Saturday means more smut. This Saturday Smut idea might be the greatest thing my brain has ever accidentally coined. This one is a tag to Always. So yes, it's their first night together and how I've pictured it in my head. (and apparently Sav and I have the same brain when it comes to Caskett sex.)  
**

**I split it into more than one chapter and I hope it still makes sense when all is said and done.**

His hand is warm. He's warm. That's one of the many thoughts racing around in her head as she tugs him towards his bedroom. Her heart pounding and skin tingling. The goosebumps rising on her flesh because she's really here, she's soaked to the bone but she's here with him. She's doing this and he's following, letting her lead the way as she's letting him inside her walls. Watching them crumble to the ground as he steps in close behind her, her eyes stinging again with unshed tears. She's done hiding. Done with trying to keep him at arms length when she just wants to be held, when she just wants_ him_.

And it's flooding in her veins, flowing freely down her spine, settling in a flare of heat between her thighs, this tangle of emotions, of overwhelming awe that this is happening. She's making it happen. He's not exactly an unwilling participant. Crowding in behind her as he closes the door, body bumping into hers, hand pushing the wet tendrils of her hair out of the way as his mouth latches onto her neck. A pulse of warmth against her cold skin, the puff of his breath hot and burning.

She wonders if she's shaking - if he can feel the energy buzzing through her. The excitement, the wonder, the thrill of this. The fact that it's happening, that she's turning in his arms, hands finding the buttons of his shirt as he smothers her mouth in a kiss. God, his lips are soft. Like satin against her own. Smooth and luxurious. Perfect. Just the way she remembers them - no, actually no they aren't. This is better. Way better than any memory she has and the feelings of guilt that accompanied kissing someone other than her boyfriend at the time.

There's no one else here. No one lingering in the back of her mind. No one but him. _Castle. _It's his hands pushing at her drenched clothing, sneaking beneath her shirt to rest hot and heavy on her sides, skim up to tease along her ribs. One finding the scar, pausing, lips faltering against her own and she realizes what this means for him. This is her, finally letting him in, letting him see all of her and it pushes her forward, makes her drag her mouth along his jaw, down his neck as she works the buttons free, shoving her hands inside as his remain completely still.

She's tired of standing still. She's tired of going nowhere and she lets him know with a whisper of his name into his ear, the pleading in her voice as she tugs the fabric of his shirt down his arms. She wants him moving. She wants him out of his head because she doesn't know what he's thinking right now and that scares her. She wants this. She needs him. And she's the one who steps away, watches as his shirt hits the floor before she reaches toward the hem of her own. He's caught, eyes glued as she raises it over her head, listening to the heavy plop of it as the wet cloth finds a home somewhere near the end of his bed.

She's reaching around for the clasp of her bra - ready to share her scars, herself - when he stops her. A hand wrapping around her waist, fingers closing over hers, nose stroking over her own. She likes this. Being so close to him, feeling his breath on her lips, shivering in his arms as he sighs into her.

"Kate," It's the first thing he's said since her back hit his door and it's her name. Soft, velvet on his tongue, a promise between them. She doesn't know of what but it's a vow of something and that's more than enough to give her courage. To let her fingers fumble with his as she unsnaps the clasp, letting him pull the straps down her arms and she feels almost shy. Almost self conscious because this is _Castle. _And it should be weird that she's bare from the waist up, that his palm is stroking down from her shoulder, dancing over her collarbone, his eyes following the motion as it settles over her breast and a moan slips passed her lips but it isn't weird at all.

The way her skin tightens at his touch should have her running. The nerve endings firing a crazy array of sensation that shoots straight from the nipple he's brushing his thumb against to the moisture pooling between her legs but she doesn't want to run anymore. She wants to get closer, she wants to be as close as possible. Meld her body into his, feel him inside, and those thoughts used to scare her, make it awkward but it's happening and it isn't awkward at all.

Because she's always known they'd end up here, well she's been hoping. Maybe not quite like this. With so much ache and longing in the air and the threat of this being something he could back out of at any given second but god, she's wanted him for so long. Just his touch, the feel of his hands, the way he kisses. And yeah, she's scared. She's diving in feet first with no way of knowing what waits below. But the way he presses a soft quick kiss to her lips, one hand at her hip and the other drifting to the puckered round scar, makes it worth it. He's worth it.

She's greedy as her hands seek his skin, arms winding around to explore the planes of his back, nails biting into the skin when he dips his head to suck against her pulse point. Something low and throaty claws up from her lungs, expels on a sigh that has him moving, shifting into her, hips meeting hers and making this seem even more real.

She can feel him hesitate, hands skittering to a stop at the button on her pants and she leans back, lets the back of her knees hit the mattress. Her eyes search for his, catch the blue and hold as they darken.

"You gonna help me out of these wet clothes, Castle?" And it's just enough to have his lips quirking up, the spark lighting as he hooks his thumbs beneath the waistband, dragging them down, panties and all in one swift tug.

Now she's a little nervous. A bit unsure or herself because he's staring down at her, not even ashamed of his ogling as she kicks off her shoes, steps out of the uncomfortably soaked material. And she's flushing, her skin pink as it heats because she's not even sure how much of the dampness was from the rain and how much was simply her need to feel him. To have him. To just _be _with him.

Her feet stumble as she toes out of her socks, making her fall, the mattress catching her and she doesn't want to look up, doesn't want to see if he's laughing so she doesn't. Not yet, not until she hears the rustle of fabric against skin, the way it sounds when it drops and the feel of warm bare flesh against her shins. His body pushing into hers, chest forcing her to lie back against the pillows. It's easy to pull him closer, to twine her legs with his a hum of content as he settles, hips pressed to hers and a solid, hot weight against her stomach.

She doesn't know what he likes, doesn't really know what to do with her hands until he shifts against her, mouth lowering. She watches, heady with arousal as his tongue pokes out between his lips and _yes. _Yes, that's exactly what she wants. His mouth on her skin and she moans at just the thought of his lips closing over her nipple, mouth sucking and tongue teasing. But he doesn't, he follows his hand, the one against her ribs, the finger tracing over the scar. That's where his mouth lands. Soft, warm, a barely there touch of his tongue that has her squirming, gasping as all the air leaves her lungs.

"Beautiful." A gruff whisper, nothing special but it is to her - has her fingers carding through his hair, closing over his ear and giving a gentle tug. Tears gathering and lump forming, she doesn't want this to be tainted. Doesn't want it to be about her mother's murder or the fact that her body is aching from being tossed around like a ragdoll.

As nice as it feels to have someone touch her, caress her battle wounds in such a way, she just wants to move on. To get away from it. To fall into something bigger than the both of them. She's diving, needs him to dive with her.

She pulls him by his ear and a hand on his jaw, drawing him back up until she can taste his lips. Body rocking into his and mouth opening to let him inside. A slow tangle of tongues, of teeth nipping and she wonders if he's stalling, if he doesn't know what to do and that's why his hands are no longer touching. The frantic pace against the door is gone. Replaced by this man who fumbles. Like he doesn't know which part of her to touch first and when she melts into the pillow, lets her eyes find his, she knows exactly why.

He's learning her. And she's learning him. The way she wraps her fingers around his wrist, slowly forcing his fingers to ghost over her, palm sliding to cup her breast, eyes never leaving hers as she guides his fingers down, rubbing them into her skin, dancing along her abdomen. The way they widen when she lifts her hips, slides both their hands between their bodies until he's stroking through her folds, her eyes slipping shut at the groan that rumbles from his chest.

It's a slow burn, the way he slides his hand against her, the press of it as his body shifts until she can feel him and all she's thinking is how close they are to doing this. Both bare, wounds open, just waiting and he's no longer hesitant. He's the one who abandons her, his hands bracketing her hips and eyes searching hers. She knows what he's asking.

"It's covered. I'm clean." The words are barely out before a slow thrust finally joins them. Walls crumbling to rubble, arms wrapping around, holding close, hands skimming over unknown territory as they rock together.

She's free. He makes her free with every twist of his hips, every push. Each kiss he peppers over her neck, her cheek, landing lazily over her lips, it all makes this too much. And not enough. Thighs trembling, muscles tensing to meet him, to feel the pressure he creates with every inward slide and she doesn't know why they waited. Why she hasn't done this before because he feels so good, his hands, his mouth soft against her own, the way he fills her - _so good_.

The tangle of energy, of pleasure starts buzzes in her bones, forcing its way up to the surface with every moan he coaxes out of her. The low sounds that vibrate through both of them, slipping from her mouth and into his. She lets it go. The anger, the pain, all of it. Nothing matters right now, nothing but him. Nothing more than the way their bodies fit, the way he trembles beneath her hands, the muscles of his back rippling as he slows his thrusts. Makes her chase, crush him down to her chest and steal his breath.

_Castle. _It's her writer above her, inside of her, pushing her closer, making her body flutter, spasms that are racing through with every drive of his hips. She thought he'd push her away, that he wouldn't forgive her for the things she said, the way she acted. That they wouldn't get to be here, he wouldn't be kissing her back, naked and pressed as closely as two human beings can get. But they are. They're here.

He's the one. It's always been him and she's admitting it. In this moment with her body preparing itself for the pleasure about to boil over, she's admitting that she loves him back. As his lips skirt over her chin, along her jaw, she's stepping through the rubble, meeting him on the other side as he glides over her, into her, sloppy and uncoordinated, trying to hold himself back. And that's what does her in, has her arching into him as he stills. The sound of her name imprinting into her neck, the strain of his body hard and unforgiving as she follows him over the cliff. Diving. Free falling _with _him.

It ends. All of it. Everything. Except him. He's still here, face still buried in her neck, hand gripping her hip. And she can feel it in the harsh breaths he's sucking in, lips touching her skin, that he's afraid. She holds him, doesn't say anything as her fingers cradle his head, her other wrapping around him, settling against the small of his back, legs locking to keep him in place.

She gives him this moment to let it all sink in. And she does the same, turning into him, lips at his ear as she thinks of what she could have lost. What she almost didn't get to have because she chose vengeance over him. She almost died and she never would have known what this felt like. To have him so close, to have him take over her thoughts and her body. It's enough to bring the tears back to the surface, to have one slip out as he cautiously turns his head, raising up to meet her gaze. He looks a little lost, unsure and she knows how he feels. Because she has no idea what to say right now - not after letting him inside, letting him break through every last barrier she had.

She's left raw and open and so is he. She parts her lips, wanting to say something as he lifts his hand. Tangles it in her hair, fingers twining around the wet strands just behind her ear, his thumb swiping over her cheek.

"I resigned." It's the first thing out, breaking the silence that's settled. The words forced and too loud in the tacit bubble they've embraced themselves in. And it's not what she wants to say. "I uh -"

"What?"

"It's not worth it anymore, Castle." She watches him, her eyes wide, begging him to see. To understand. "I want to be here."

The words melt into him, pushed in with a chaste kiss and he seems to like her explanation. Not asking for anything more at the moment and letting a slow easy smile spread over his lips. He looks younger than he has in days and she feels the weight lift from her chest.

"So," And it's the way he raises his eyebrows, looking down at her breasts that has her laughing, making her realize that nothing is different. He's still Castle. "This isn't exactly how I thought this night would go."

"Not even when you invited me for the double feature?" Because she had. She'd thought it over, thought about how she might only make it through half of the first film before her hand mysteriously ended up on his thigh. But then things had become complicated. Words that shouldn't have been said. Things that shouldn't have happened.

"No."

"I'm sorry, Castle, I'm sorry that everything -"

"Maybe you could start at the beginning, tell me how you ended up here and soaking wet." She almost makes it into a joke. Almost twists it into something salacious. It would be easy but she doesn't. She owes him this, so she lets him roll away, wincing when he slips out of her to lay on his side. She follows, mimicking the position, a hand resting on his hip. And with an ease she didn't think was possible, she opens her mouth and lets the words out.

**a/n: Okay, so basically this is going to be the three rounds they experienced in their first night. In order. First - intense, second - raw, third - playful. It's all been written, I just split it because it ended up being almost 7000 words.  
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	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Nope.**

**A/N: Round 2 & 3. Enjoy.  
**

It's dark in the room when it hits, the urge, the sandpaper feel of her tongue despite the fact that she just said she's tired. She is. She's exhausted and she's thirsty. Castle is quiet, his hand still playing in the damp tendrils, curls already forming. His heart thrumming a steady rhythm beneath her ear. She likes this. The feel of his chest beneath her cheek, the way her legs tangle perfectly with is, toes pushing into his calves to stay warm. He doesn't mind - if he does, he hasn't said anything.

She doesn't want to get up. Ever. If she could just stay like this, it would all be okay with her. But she's _really _thirsty. And it has her grumbling, opening her eyes to the view of his chest before pushing herself up. His hand slides from her hair to her neck and she winces just a bit at the flashback it brings. The way Maddox tightened his fingers around her throat with the intent to crush it. This touch is different, soft and loving.

"What's wrong?" She hates that he assumes anything is. She hates that they've done this to each other but she just shakes her head, wraps her hand around his. Her fingers bringing his palm up to her lips, a kiss pressed to it as she mumbles the words into his skin.

"Just thirsty. I'll be right back." He follows her, doesn't let her get up alone and she's met with the full view of him. One she can appreciate even in the dim lighting, one that brings her stumbling to a stop as he passes by not even reaching for anything to cover himself before he ventures out of the bedroom. She's left watching, looking at his ass and feeling her cheeks flame.

She's not so thirsty anymore. Standing at the edge of his bed, bathed only the light coming from the moon, she doesn't follow him. She waits. Knows he's probably a little confused but she doesn't want the water anymore. She just wants him. Again. And she's left wondering if this is what it'll be like, a constant need to be closer, to be skin on skin. To always want _more._

So she waits. With the knowledge that he's coming back, she waits. Shifting her weight from leg to leg and greeting him with a smile of thanks when he comes back with a glass. She waits for the moment he hands it to her, slides her pinky over his as she takes it, her eyes smoky and dark in such little lighting.

"Thanks." A cool gulp to calm herself. Another because she really _is _parched and then she leaves the glass forgotten on his bedside table, hands pushing at his chest until he's backed into the wall. Her mouth insistent and open against his.

He's a gentleman, trying to slow it down, languidly meeting her, hands soft on her hips and she loves him even more for it. But she really doesn't want slow right now. Not when she _knows _how it feels. The ache that builds and builds before it bursts. She really just wants the burst, the fire that consumes and she makes it known with a thrust of her hips.

"Beckett," A growl against her lips, a humming vibration that sends a shiver down her spine and yes, this is exactly what she wants. What she craves. She's had him slow, easy, powerful. Now she really just wants to _show _him the other end of the spectrum. Make sure they fit it all in and she grins into him when he turns, when her back hits the wall and it's that moment against his door all over again. The flurry of his hands, no clothing in their way this time as he attacks her neck, lips soft, teeth biting and it has the same reaction. The same knee weakening, her slumping into him reaction.

But she's braver now. Not as nervous and mystified that this is happening. Her leg hooking over his hip as she pushes herself back up, turning into him, stealing his kisses with her tongue. It's quick this time, not slow when he grabs her thigh and hoists her up against the wall, pushing into her. But it's the first time it's ever felt like this. That a well timed rough thrust causes more than a pleasurable stretch within her. She's never felt this. This overwhelming heart crushing sting in her chest, a sucker punch as the air evacuates her body the moment he's entered it.

It's different when you love someone. She never realized how much. Until now with her head dropping back on a thud as it hits the wall and his mouth against the tender flesh of her breast, her body consuming him, taking each quick drive of his hips. Now she gets it. It's not as coordinated, it's sloppy and fast. A slap of bodies meeting and hands sliding but she still feels the emotion from him. The wonder. The love. Her nails dig into his shoulder, his scalp. Anywhere she touches. Harsh breaths, panting, gasping, just trying to find the oxygen. A guttural moan, she's not sure from whom when his fingers slip between them, dipping down until she's writhing, head falling into him, landing on his shoulder as her body curls around him, tensing.

They're both braver, it seems. He's already figured her out. His hands already know how to drive her over the edge and his mouth, she can't even think. Not when he's sucking, teeth scraping over the spot just below her ear that makes her cry out. And it's his name, sharp and clear that leaves her tongue, has him faltering. She knows what she wants, what she needs and with every slick slide of their bodies, it just becomes more difficult to ignore. The jolt that twists along her spine, buries it's claws deep inside with every rub of his fingers, every thrust as he fills her.

"Harder, Castle." She wants it. But she isn't prepared. Doesn't understand that when she demands, he answers immediately. That he knows her so well he can almost read her mind, that all it takes is one press of his hand, one quick rough shove of his hips and he has her back scraping against the wall, her teeth sinking into his shoulder as her body shudders around him.

Legs locking tightly, heels digging in to his ass, holding him in place as she loses it. His shoulders are shaking, and it takes her a minute to realize he's wiggling against her, a low rumbling in his chest as he rocks into her, seeking the friction she's put an end to and she tugs on his ear just to shut him up. Her muscles relaxing, melting, turning liquid against him. Lips finding his, hips grinding down and she swallows the groan of her name when he spills into her.

They stay like that. Her back to the wall, his weight holding her up, mouths locked together and if she's being completely honest with herself, this is more of how she pictured their first time. Something quick and messy against a wall or a door. It has her smiling into him, huffing out a laugh and nudging his nose with hers.

"Kills the ego when you laugh after sex." And maybe if he wasn't panting and smiling too, she'd believe him.

"I think the ego is just fine."

"You're amazing." For some reason the honesty in his voice has her blushing, unwinding her legs from his waist and finding the ground beneath her feet.

"Yeah, well, you're not so bad yourself."

"That's not really what I was talking about." She knows. She knows he didn't mean the sex but it's the safest route and she's not quite ready to spill the words yet. The 'I love you' that will show him she thinks he's just as amazing. That everything about him does it for her and how could it not? She'd be blind if she said he's not attractive in his ruggedly handsome way. Just plain stupid if the fact that he brings her coffee just to see her smile doesn't make her chest swell with warmth. The list is endless.

The things she adores about him. So she steps around him, climbs into the bed knowing he'll follow. And he does. His chest to her back as she rests on her side, his palm over her stomach as he pulls the sheets up around them. And when she closes her eyes, she feels it hit once more. That this is happening, and that she's free.

"Thank you." It slips out, makes him slide his hand up her ribs and move closer. Chin on her shoulder, lips at her ear as he whispers back.

"For what?"

"You could have just shut the door in my face and you didn't."

"You can be pretty persuasive with your mouth." And the fact that he's making jokes instead of making her feel even worse about the whole situation is what has her relaxing, humming out a contented sigh.

"Get some sleep, you're gonna need it when I show you just how _persuasive_ I can be."

"There's no way I'm sleeping after that." She turns on him, rolling until she's met with his eyes, shadowed in the dark. Her fingers coming up to trace over his jaw, thumb teasing his lips. "Not even tired."

* * *

But he was lying. She's the one exhausted and wide awake over an hour later when he's dozing between conversations, a snore actually making her bury her smile in his chest. She didn't expect this. She really expected him to turn her away and she never realized it'd be this intense. That she'd be glued to his side, wanting to touch as if he'll disappear the moment she stops, the second she succumbs to sleep.

So she doesn't give in to the exhaustion in her bones. She does however, stop touch for a brief moment. Just long enough to turn on a light and then she's back at his side, settling into him. She wants to see. She's tired of the dark and the shadows. She wants the light and the things it reveals. Like the way his lips are pink, swollen from her kisses.

And how his brow pinches together, face scrunching against the light. And maybe for other reasons too. The chest she's lying against, the way it rises and falls on heavy breaths. And even the way she tugs on the sheet to reveal his navel, keeps tugging until her greedy gaze gets to investigate all of him. Her fingers trip over his chest, smoothing down, thumb flicking his nipple. Exploring. She's just exploring, memorizing.

Down to his stomach, the dip of his belly button and how it feels when she lets her fingers circle around it, nails scratching lightly over his skin. He's beautiful. She wonders if he knows that. Her lips press to his shoulder, fingers continuing their journey to his hip the slope her digits trace and the hand reaching for her wrist, stalling her investigation.

"Kate,"

"Hm?" She tugs out of his hold, palm flattening against his abdomen, rubbing up to his chest and back down again. She needs to know. She wants to know everything about him. Every line, every freckle. The way his skin ripples beneath her hand when she dips just a little lower.

"What are you doing?" It sounds dumb, even in her head so she doesn't tell him that she's learning, exploring his skin. She finds his eyes, barely open, squinting at the light.

"Just looking." And touching but it goes unsaid. Her fingers curling against his skin, slipping down the extra few inches to grab hold of him, make him jump. The twitch in her palm, hot and velvet. Smooth. Maybe she's strange, maybe her kinky side is coming out to play but she loves the way he feels, the way he expands in her hand and she can't help but bite her lip, swing her body over until she's perched on his thighs.

It's different, the light illuminating everything and she watches his gaze settle on her chest for a moment, dance down to where there bodies are touching, her core against his legs. It doesn't unnerve her, doesn't make her want to throw her clothes back on and run far away and that's how she's felt about _anyone _seeing her since she was shot. He doesn't make her feel like less of a woman, like anything other than beautiful and that's what has her pushing her thumb into him, rubbing base to tip. Watching as his eyes roll back in his head as she dips down, wraps her lips around. Tongue twisting, eyes closing on a hum when he curses under his breath.

She lets her playful side come out, teasing mercilessly, listening to her name become a prayer with each hollow of her cheeks, every swipe of her tongue, the light gentle scrape of her teeth. He's begging and she loves every second of it. The hand gripping her hair, the fist tangling. Waiting until the vein in his neck is pulsing before she stops, releasing him with a smile taking over when his eyes fly open.

He's already reaching for her, sitting up and tugging at her hips but she doesn't let him get hasty, makes him stop. This is about him. And her need to know every single thing that drives him crazy. But he's not one to just sit back and let her do everything, she knows that. She knows it before he ever palms her breast, eyes greedily watching as her body responds to his touch, mouth slowly diving in to close over her nipple. And yes. Just yes. This might be the best night she's ever had.

And this time, she's in control. When she eases down on him, twisting her hips in a rhythm just for him, she's the one smiling. A hand locked with his, next to his head and another on his chest - over his heart, feeling it beat wildly beneath her palm as he holds on, wraps his fingers around her ribs, warm over her scar. Safe and warm. And it tickles a bit. Makes her laugh when he strokes his thumb against the underside of her breast.

He does it again, getting the same reaction and she tells him to 'stop it' but he's grinning, rocking into her and she knows that he's just found something to use against her. The fact that she's just a tad ticklish in spots. It isn't rough and fast this time, nor slow. It's them. A match of power over one another, him searching for more places to make her raise her eyebrows and squirm away while she retaliates with a wicked jerk of her hips that has him moaning beneath her.

And he's the first to fall over the edge, an apology on his lips that isn't needed as he arches into her, pulling her down against his chest. The feel of him letting go, the final thrust, enough to have her following. He's chuckling against her, shoulders shaking between stuttered breaths, still twitching inside of her and it's the perfect moment. She can't let it go. She kisses his chin, nibbles at his lip.

"Kills the ego when you laugh after sex." She tosses it back in his face. Teasing, letting her tongue poke out between her teeth as she smiles against him.

"You were the one laughing during."

"Your fault."

She knows this time when she closes her eyes, lets her body slip into sleep, he won't disappear. She'll wake up with him still by her side or beneath her. Depends on if and when she decides to move. For now she's comfortable with kissing him softly, letting him make it known that they're doing this. She's here. She's in this.

And she's the first to fall asleep and the first to wake up, still wrapped around him.

**a/n: All's well that ends well. ;)**


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